Page 8 of Drowned In Silence

Stars and darkness slowly fill my vision, my body dancing on the edge of passing out. I try to tell him to let go, but before I can everything goes completely black and I pass out within his grip.

Please Mommy

Dynah - Flashback

I’m running around thekitchen, trying to get away from my Mother. Not sure what drugs she has taken this time, I don't plan on finding out or asking.

“Stop! Please!” I yell at her, tripping over an empty coffee can and falling into the table. “Please, just stop trying to hurt me, Mommy!”

She has a crazed look in her eyes, her hair is tied up in a messy bun, and she's only wearing an untied robe with nothing underneath.

“Why are you chasing me?” I cry.

I just want her to stop. I’ve been running around the house forever, trying to get her to run out of energy or to quit being mean to me… but she just won’t give it a rest. My Father isn’t home right now, and he is my only protector. He would make her stop. He would take her to the bedroom and make her make funny noises.

This all started when I came downstairs because I was bleeding from my private parts. I was crying and I thought she would helpme, but instead she got this funny look on her face, picked up a knife, and started coming at me. I don’t know why I’m bleeding, but that almost scares me more than her.

“Stop!” I scream. Maybe if I’m loud enough a neighbor will come over and see her acting crazy. Maybe they will find me in all this trash and take me away to a magical hidden castle where no one could ever find me again.

My mother pushes the table, causing me to fall back onto the floor. I’m quick on my feet because of how little I am, and I jump up, running to the stairs.

I peer around the corner of the wall, making sure she isn’t following me. The last place she will look is her own room, so I sneak down the hall while looking behind me every-so-often. When I get to my parents room, I turn the handle and tiptoe in.

It’s filthy and it smells weird, but I walk through the dirty clothes and hide myself into the barely open closet. It’s open just wide enough to fit my body through carefully.

I’m not sure what’s in here, but it can’t be worse than what’s out there.

I wake up to the sound of my Father opening the bedroom door.

“Where is she, Audrey? Where did our fucking kid run off to this time?” He asks. He doesn’t seem to really want an answer as he pulls my mom into the room and shuts the door.

I’m never going to be able to get out of here… Not at least until they fall asleep or something.

Father pushes Mommy onto the bed, her robe flying open and exposing her private parts.

What is he planning on doing to her?

Walking over to their TV, he pushes a tape into the VCR player and hits play. My voice plays over the speaker, giggling and laughing before going silent.

I try to peek through the open door to see what is playing, but when I see it, I cover my eyes again. I peer through my fingers, scared but curious. My Daddy is standing over my sleeping body, playing with his privates. The video turns around to my Mother who is holding the camera, she smiles and then it shows her hand in her panties.

It turns back around to show my Father still playing with himself. Before very long, he shoots something out of his privates and it lands on my body.

What is that icky stuff?

The video cuts to another scene of me sleeping, and I look away not wanting to watch anymore. My attention is forced back on my parents whose eyes are stuck on the TV. They both look crazed, their eyes not even blinking. My Mother’s hand starts touching herself just like the video and the other reaches over to touch my father.

I’ve had enough. I can’t look anymore. I don’t want to watch this.

I sit back, deeper into the closet and close my eyes. Using my hands I cover my ears, not wanting to hear the video or them making weird sounds. I rock back and forth and pray for someone to save me. I just want to be somewhere else, I just want to be alone.

I’m drowning in the silence of my own thoughts, diving into the empty parts of my head.

Maybe one day… Maybe I’ll be saved.

Gríma Sýn

Elliot

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